


And there they were

by appatary8523



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Gen, Poor use of the english language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 05:19:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14513409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appatary8523/pseuds/appatary8523
Summary: Stealing is an easy way to get the things you want, right?





	And there they were

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Y ahí estaban](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14516907) by [appatary8523](https://archiveofourown.org/users/appatary8523/pseuds/appatary8523). 



> I apologize for the grammar mistakes that you might find, as you know I’m not a native english speaker.

**And there they were:** The great Ernesto de la Cruz and the esteemed songwriter Héctor Rivera. But they were not them yet, they were only a pair of noisy brats, 9 and 5 years old respectively.  
Few important things crossed their minds, the priority now was to run as fast as their legs allowed them and not looking back unless one of them were in danger.

It was until Ernesto turned around the corner of a house in the outskirts of the town when the escape was over. Héctor followed close behind, and surprisingly he had the energy to laugh. That pair of mischievous children had stolen some apples in the market, they didn't have the need to steal, but it was already done and there was no turning back.  
Their luck would be bad if someone catched them, the best thing to do was to get rid of the evidence. After recovering the breath they sat on the ground to eat the juicy loot, laughing and joking while the fruit were becoming less. Maybe it was their imagination, but they could swear that the stolen apples tasted better.  


**And there they were:** The great Ernesto de la Cruz and the esteemed songwriter Héctor Rivera. But they were not them yet, they were only a pair of irresponsible youngsters, 20 and 16 years old respectively.  
Running again, but now under the moonlight, accompanied with a guitar and a young lady named Imelda. And what have they done this time? Take the girl out of her house, without permission, of course. Héctor's plan was only a serenade, but Ernesto ended up convincing him to take her for a walk, hold hands, whispers some love words and, who knows, maybe he could get a kiss.

Imelda, strong of character and anxious for emotions acceded to the request and managed to slip out of the house. Easy peasy... until her father heard them and started yelling at them to bring his daughter back.  
No one obeyed, they knew they would be dead by the next day but it didn’t matter, because it felt like they had everything.

Ernesto playing the guitar sitting on the branch of a tree, enlivening Héctor and Imelda’s evening while they were sitting side by side at the foot of the tree, very close. Close enough to give Imelda a kiss on the cheek while she was staring the beautiful nighty wooded landscape. The lady looked at him surprised, then she let out a soft laugh. It was her first kiss, their first kiss. Tender and innocent. None of them had no point of comparison, but Héctor could scream to the world that it had been the best. Maybe it was the emotion of the moment, but stolen had been more beautiful.  


  **And there they were:** The great Ernesto de la Cruz and the esteemed songwriter Héctor Rivera. But they were not them yet, they were only a pair of dreaming youngsters, 24 and 20 years old respectively  
Running from presentation to presentation, their dream of singing to the world was just starting and the success was smiling to them. Even in small places the public cheered them, probably for their melodies, because the lyrics of the songs, their inigualable charisma or because they would sing whatever people asked for.  
Who knows, but for some months they were the perfect duet.

After some time Héctor stopped giving everything on the stage, he looked more tired, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Ernesto knew the reason but couldn’t believe it. He just convinced him to achieve his aspirations while Imelda kept saying he should stay with his family, cutting his wings.  
Héctor couldn’t steal his dream, stealing was a bad thing! Didn’t he remembered the humiliation they’ve suffered in the market for being thieves? Or the beating they had been given by order of Imelda’s father? Apparently, Héctor hadn’t learned, but there was no problem. His good friend would take charge of reminding him that stealing was not right.  


**And there they were:** The great Ernesto de la Cruz and the esteemed songwriter Héctor Rivera. But they were not them yet, they were only a pair of friends with differences, 25 and 21 years old respectively.  
Finally, there was no need to run, but Héctor felt like, he even wanted to fly in order to return to Santa Cecilia as quick as possible. With the light of his eyes and the reason of his existence: his wife Imelda and their little baby girl, Socorro. He couldn’t stand it, they were his inspiration and he refused to spend another second without them.

But Ernesto, stubborn as always, couldn’t let the things like that, he always had the last word, and this time was not the exception.

And they toasted for their friendship, their triumphs and defeats, for all the moments they spent together. After that drink, their lives would follow different paths.  
Héctor collapsed in the middle of the street, Ernesto didn’t wasted any time to take the songbook of his now deceased friend. Finally, the key to success.  
But… What was happening? Stealing didn’t felt right, there was not satisfaction, it tasted as bitter as gall. Did that woman in the market felt like that when they snatched that fruit some time ago? He doubted it, she had a lot of fruit, but he only had a dead body and no idea of what to do with it.  


**And there he was:** The great Ernesto de la Cruz. But he had to give a lot more to become the greatest of all. And he was only 31 years old! But let him gather speed, because he’s willing to conquer the world!

And the esteemed song writer Héctor Rivera? There was still a long time to go so he could be him. His memory was fading away, his name wasn’t pronounced anymore, his body was probably not recognizable.  
The only one running now was time.  
While Héctor was being forgotten, Ernesto would go on for many years in order to be the celebrity he always wanted to be.  
And this time there was not a supposition, it was a fact.  
Now living in the opulence, the man with perfect hair could attest it: the small red notebook was as sweet as fame, as sweet as succees, as sweet as wealth, and it was the tangible proof that the stolen things always had a better taste.  


**And there he was:** The esteemed songwriter Héctor Rivera. But he had no intention to be him. It was almost a century since he had passed away and the only thing he wanted now was to recover the lost time that had been snapped up by someone whom sworn to move the immovable on his behalf.  
He had the most valued thing of his life in death, and it was the perfect time to make amends for the damage caused. There was no need to run, eternity would be his best ally now that he had to take things easy.

And the great Ernesto de la Cruz? Well, he wasn’t _that_ great after all.  
He was pointed out again, like that time he had stolen the fruit, but in a larger scale. And running to his home wasn’t the solution this time.  
Everything went to pieces, the foundations made out of paper that supported his glory were useless. Now it was his moment indeed, but the moment to learn a lesson: Being a thief doesn’t do any good.

Héctor tried to steal his dream, and it’s no crime to steal from a thief, right?  
It was like, no matter how fast he run, he didn’t seemed to get anywhere. Neither legs or body weighed, but he was running out of energy at an incredible rate: Mental wear was unbearable, derision was tiring, contempt hurted. The second death seemed to be as far as those days when he knew that he could always count with his good friend Héctor, who had promised with his hands sodden with juice and sweat that, no matter what it happened, he would always be by his side.


End file.
